Archive | October 2016

Safely Taking Pictures–and Writing Stories!

To get the really great shots–or sometimes just a cool idea–can mean the difference between life and death.

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Interesting Photo of the Day: Lion Steals Camera and Tripod

Okay, so the photographer was safe, and the other got a really great shot of the lioness eating his camera, but…

Enough said! 🙂

Have a happy TGIF!

Terry Spear

“Giving new meaning to the term alpha male where fantasy is reality.”

Connect with Terry Spear:

Website: http://www.terryspear.com

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/421434.Terry_Spear

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TerrySpearParanormalRomantics

Twitter: https://twitter.com/TerrySpear

Co-Existing

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Bumblebee and California Buckeye Butterfly

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One Bumblebee was already here…

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2 Bumblebees–not sure what was going on here….

The flowers are still blooming, but they’re beginning to fade. The butterflies and bumblebees are trying to get their fair share before it’s all gone.

And with a little bit of rain, golden finches, bluebirds, and a downy woodpecker showed up before sunset.

In the midst of all this, I’ve been working on Double Cougar Trouble, over halfway done, stopping to cut down spent sunflowers and bell pepper plants, and pull up the watermelon plants. A volunteer tomato plant has several green tomatoes on it, but with chillier nights, it might not make it. Two of my pepper plants actually have tiny peppers on them, but I don’t think they’re going to grow any bigger. I’ll cut them up in spaghetti or for omelets.

I got the materials request for the next White Wolf story, so I need to make up a plot summary and more stuff for that!

You know, I always tell myself I’ll make these blogs shorter. Pictures, and that’s it. Then I won’t bore you with all this!

I’m a writer, what can I say?

Have a lovely day!!!

Terry Spear

“Giving new meaning to the term alpha male where fantasy is reality.”

Connect with Terry Spear:

Website: http://www.terryspear.com

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/421434.Terry_Spear

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TerrySpearParanormalRomantics

Twitter: https://twitter.com/TerrySpear

Ghosts for Halloween: Wednesday Excerpt: Ghostly Liaisons

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So my neighbor goes all out for Halloween, and Christmas decorations. They won a contest for their Christmas and yard last year. Do I keep up with the Jones’s? Nope, but I finally picked up a ghost to display out front. 🙂 Just to show I’m handing out candy. 🙂

I loved to read ghost stories when I was a kid. I think the most disappointing one I ever read was about the ghost with a cold and after the little boy gave her cough syrup, she went away happy. Huh???

When I lived in Florida, our home was at the beginning of the development, wilderness jungle across the street, canal out back, not bulk-headed on the other side, and mounds of sand like the Dunes, ready for explorers to climb and see what was on the other side. I used to go with friends into the jungle, exploring, the area in a recession, so no homes were being built across the street or behind us. Our canal fed into the Banana River, which was brackish water and was teaming with life–dolphins, sharks, jellyfish, stingrays, you name it. We also had sea turtles, water moccasins, alligators, and rattlesnakes, swampy areas, huge spiders, huge spiderwebs. Perfect for jungle exploration. Really.

It was my mother’s fault. She wanted us to get out of the house. Quit reading books. Go play out in the heat and humidity. And so who wants to just “play” in the backyard when you can see what hidden treasures the jungle has? Or what you might find on the other side of the Dunes.

ghostly-liaisons-genericWe had the most awesome and scary storms in Florida. The sunroom door wouldn’t shut properly half the time, and one night we were all watching something scary while my dad was working graveyard shift on the stands at Cape Canaveral, and bang! The stormy wind blew our door open and it banged against the wall. Our toy poodle barked her head off, but wouldn’t go near the sunroom. My mom and I went to check it out, and found it was just the wind and the door hadn’t latched properly. But still, it had given us a fright and it was scary to think the door wouldn’t lock like it was supposed to half the time. We had lovely neighbors to begin with, a sweet, retired couple from the AF. My dad was retired from the AF also. But then we got the neighbors from hell when they left.
They stole kids’ bikes and toys and threw them in the canal. They terrorized whoever they could. They shot bb pellets into our windows. They threw people’s dogs into the canal. We had dangerous stuff in the canal, so it really wasn’t a place for a poor pooch to be swimming around in. We didn’t know any better when we first moved there and swam in it either. Not until kids brought a 6 foot rattlesnake to the door and said it was in our yard, they’d killed it, but could they keep it? By all means! And my dad found a water moccasin in his minnow trap in the canal. The woman next door kept spraying water on my mother’s clothes hanging out to dry and well water stains. My mom asked her to please not water when she had clothes out drying, and her husband threatened to kill my dad. They were evil, and when they took off one night–we had creditors calling us forever, asking where they went. As if WE should know.
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So you see, that house and that setting has made for the most perfectly moody place for two of my romantic suspenses as a “safe house,” and this teen ghost story.

Emily Rundle’s curious nature causes her big problems when she moves with her family to Florida. First of all, she’s different. Really different. Then the nightmares begin. The kind she can’t escape. Somehow she has to unravel the mystery of the ghosts who plague her before it’s too late.Michael Shipley just moved to town, too, and realizes at once Emily is trouble with a big T. If he becomes involved with her, his life will change forever. Premonitions he has that Emily’s life will be in danger forces him to make a stand to protect the girl who’s gifted with extraordinary abilities like him. They instantly bond as the two weirdest kids in school.

Both Michael and Emily have past histories, painful memories they’d rather forget. Faced with dangerous new challenges, they must overcome their past, threats at school, bullies in the flesh, and ghostly apparitions bent on a deadly game of revenge. What was once a simple matter, discover the secrets of the ghosts and appease them, becomes a race against time as Emily and Michael fight the evil that threatens to conquer them.

Excerpt from:

Ghostly Liaisons

Ebook By Terry Spear
Category: Fiction » Young adult or teen » Romance » Fantasy

Ghostly Liaisons

Terry Spear

Ghostly Liaisons

Copyright © 2010 by Terry Spear

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

Discover more about Terry Spear at:

http://www.terryspear.com/

DEDICATION

 

To ghost lovers everywhere. May you only encounter the kindly ones!

Chapter 1

Emily Rundle stared at herself in the mirror, but she didn’t look like herself, not with the brunette coloring she’d used. Glad she tested out a temporary hair color, she washed it all out of her hair with peach shampoo, blew it dry, and sighed. Didn’t matter that she was always teased about her red hair. She wanted to at least feel normal when she looked in the mirror at herself, since nothing else about her was–normal.

She walked into her bedroom and considered the bed, wondering if tonight, she’d finally be able to sleep the whole night through.

She was sure she wouldn’t have long to wait before she knew the answer to her question.

***

“Beware the danger,” a feminine voice whispered close to Emily’s ear, the sweet fragrance of tea-scented roses wafting in the air.

Emily stirred in bed, her mind half awake. It was only a dream, she told herself. Or a very real nightmare.

When a hand touched her throat, leaving an icy imprint of frostbite burning the skin, Emily’s eyes popped open, her heart pumping hard.

Not again. A new home, a new beginning. Why couldn’t they leave her alone?

She lay very still, barely breathing, waiting for the unseen entity to appear, to speak again. The room was cold, but she had assumed it was because her hot-natured dad had turned the air conditioner on high again on the sweltering, August night. Her whole body chilled and she buried herself deeper under her pink satin comforter.

The skin on her throat still burned from the freezing fingers that had touched her, the first time the thing had been so bold. But it didn’t seem to want to harm her.

“Hello?” Emily whispered. “What…what do you want?”

She flipped on her lamp switch. Nothing. Then the linen curtains hanging closed rippled as if the muggy Florida breeze was blowing in from the north through an open window. The way her skin crawled with chill bumps and her breath came out in frosty puffs, Emily knew it was still in the room with her.

“I can help you.” At least she hoped she could. Her dealings with ghosts didn’t always work out the way she planned. “What do you want?”

Emily’s closet door creaked open, the hair on her arms stood on end, and she shifted her attention to the walk-in closet.

“I’ve helped…uhm, people like you before,” Emily said. She ran her fingers through her tangled hair, wishing the restless spirit would leave her in peace so she could sleep just one night.

Fine. Have it your way.

Emily shut off the bedside lamp light. Across the room, her closet door closed with a clunk, and she jumped.

She couldn’t get back to sleep for an hour after that, waiting for the spirit’s return, listening for any sound it might make, judging the change in the temperature of the room. But her eyes finally shut, and she was once again drawn into the watery graveyard across the street.

The racket from cicadas and crickets filled the air with their inharmonious songs, the noise grating on her ears. Steam rose from the jungle-like swamp, while sun filtered through the tree branches and shimmered off the brown water where the green scum hadn’t yet crept. Or had something disturbed the water? Pushed the scum away with its movement? Something like an alligator sweeping its tail from side to side? Poking its nostrils and rigid green brows just above the surface, waiting…waiting for what?

Emily shivered. Why wasn’t the jungle hot? She tugged her comforter higher.

Something moved in the trees’ shade, but made no sound, just a shadow similar to the ones the foliage made, but sliding in between slim and thick tree trunks, stopping, moving, floating, fading, fading, and gone.

Emily, she thought she heard the female entity whisper, exotic, sweet as the fragrance of roses permeating the air. Emily.

From-the-gut male laughter, dark and husky, echoed through the jungle. Drunken slurred words followed.

Emily. The voice calling her name was feminine, soft and luring…the ghost who visited her bedroom, she thought.

Emily buried her head into her pillow and touched her temple. Who called her? Who? Could she help her?

A breeze shook branches, rippled the water’s surface, sent heat hurtling through the trees.

But Emily still felt chilled. She sensed the air’s thick humidity, but she couldn’t feel it.

“If the wench returnsss…” The gruff man’s slurred words faded.

“Where the hell’sss the Cap’n?” another asked.

Emily couldn’t see where the voices were coming from. There was nothing around her but swampland.

“Where’s our booty? Blasted witch!”

“Thar she is! Grab the wench!”

Emily swallowed hard. They couldn’t get her, could they? She gripped her comforter tighter as if it would shield her from the threat. Her stomach tightened into knotted rope.

A girl laughed, haughty and hearty.

The men cursed.

The sounds, the heat and humidity of the jungle died away. The scent of roses lingered.

Shattering the new silence, the alarm jangled next to Emily’s bed, giving her heart a rude jumpstart before she remembered it was the first day of school. Her new school.

In Oregon, her bedroom had been half this size with only one window. Here in Florida, she had the northwest corner of the second-story. One window faced east over the jungle-like swamps that drained into the Banana River, and the other faced north with a view of another two-story colonial. Like two massive stone-faced castles sitting at the entrance to the development, they were built to lure buyers in.

Emily’s naturally red hair flopped over her shoulders in waves of curls, as she hastily pulled on her jeans and threw a T-shirt over her head.  When she looked in the mirror to put on her makeup, she noticed the finger-like imprint on her throat, the skin slightly bruised. Great, just great. She couldn’t wear a turtleneck when the temperature was sweltering.

Whipping a makeup brush out of a drawer, she swept the ivory powder over the discoloration, covering it the best she could. Hopefully, her mother wouldn’t notice the finger marks or she’d be even more stressed out.

After adding olive shadow to her eyelids to enhance her green eyes, Emily applied mascara to her red lashes. A dab of gloss added a luscious shine to her lips. She smacked them and smiled. She didn’t look too frazzled, considering the ghost kept hassling her at night.

She considered the way her skin looked, like a milk bath had washed all the color away. Frowning, she couldn’t help it her skin wouldn’t tan. Exposure to the sun would force brown freckles hiding beneath the surface to expand rapidly into a rash of spots. Here in sunny Florida, the kids would undoubtedly rib her mercilessly for having untanned skin.

Her stomach flip-flopped. Would the kids here form cliques like they did at her old high school? Most likely. She imagined they could be pretty mean-spirited, especially if they ever learned of her secrets. She glanced out the window facing the steamy, mosquito-laden swampland—ghostly spirits, hidden pirate’s treasure, secrets long forgotten—beckoned to her.

As soon as she could, she was exploring them and discovering what she could about the ghosts.

Emily ran down the stairs and stalked into the kitchen where her mother greeted her. The skin beneath her eyes was dark from not sleeping. “Are you certain you don’t want to ride the bus the first day to school instead of driving the old Caddy?” She handed Emily a mini blueberry muffin on a blue and white porcelain plate that matched the kitchen decorated in the same color scheme.

The tile counters sparkled in the wash of Florida sunshine spilling through the large windows. So different from the nearly always overcast climate in Oregon. Her eyes still weary from lack of sleep, Emily squinted.

“I’ll be okay, Mom.” Knowing how much her mother fretted, she tried to sound reassuring. She attempted to change the subject. “Is Dad already at work?”

“Yes, he left an hour ago.” Her mother paced, then noticing a piece of masking tape from one of the boxes dangling on the leg of her blue jeans, she yanked it off and threw it away. She pushed her fingers though her uncombed blonde hair. “Maybe you should reconsider driving. Do you remember the route? What if the Caddy breaks down again?”

“Thanks, but you showed me the way already. The car will be fine.” Emily hoped. She skirted the packing boxes cluttering the white tile floor. “Unless you want me to stay home and help you unpack some more.” Even though she wanted to get her first day over at school, she wouldn’t have minded delaying the inevitable if it relieved some of her mother’s anxiety.

It seemed since they moved, Emily had unloaded thousands of boxes already. Except for the kitchen, where she and her mother had concentrated their efforts, the house was still in turmoil. Because she didn’t like things so disorderly, Emily worked to get her bedroom in order, too. But all the walls remained bare of pictures and would probably stay that way for another week. The house wouldn’t seem like home until everything was unpacked and put in its place. It would take a lot longer to feel like home unless she made some new friends here.

Emily reached into the fridge for the milk jug.

Her mother paused from ripping open another box, finally taking a breather to answer her. “No, honey, school’s more important. We’ll get this all put away before long.” Her mother reached over and poked a curl behind Emily’s ear. “You didn’t like being a brunette?”

“No. It didn’t look like me.”

Her mother nodded. “I’m so sorry we got here right before school started. Who’d have ever thought Florida schools would start in the midsummer heat?”

“No problem. At least they’re air conditioned.” Unlike the cars her family brought from Oregon. Her dad swore he’d get her mother and him new ones as soon as he could afford to. Talk about a fast way to ruin a happy mood, stick a family in a humid, metal steam bath, and see tempers flare.

Her mother’s brow pinched together, and she focused on the Caddy again. “I just worry about that old car breaking down. The transmission’s been acting up a bit. The starter has been, too.”

“It’ll be okay, Mom. Have you got the stress stone reliever I gave you for Christmas?”

Her mother pulled the shiny, speckled stone out of her jeans pocket and began to stroke it. “Guess I’m worrying too much again.”

Emily kissed her mother’s cheek. “Just rub the stone to make the problems go away.”

Her mother’s eyes focused on Emily’s throat, and she reached out to touch it. “Emily, what’s—”

“Got to run! Don’t want to be late! See ya!” Her heart pumping, Emily dashed out of the kitchen. She hurried outside into the soupy Florida heat, hoping when she became a mom she wouldn’t be such a worrywart with her own kids. But no way was she going to concern her mother about the ghost in her bedroom. She already had way too much to agonize about.

Taking a deep breath, Emily slid into the seat of the old Cadillac. The odor of her grandfather’s pipe tobacco smelled stale, made worse by the humidity, and already the car was twenty degrees hotter than the outside air. She wished she could have a brand new car like some of the other kids she knew back home, but instead she had her grandparents’ old hand-me-down. Still, it was better than riding the bus.

She twisted the key in the ignition. Nothing but a little grinding sound. Then absolute dead silence. When the car’s engine didn’t turn over, her skin prickled with exasperation. She shoved the door open and the hinges groaned like the joints had painful arthritis. Jumping out of the car, she slammed the door shut, then dashed back into the house. Hope sprang anew her mother would take her to school.

“Mom, the car’s not running!”

Startled, her mother gave a little scream, her hand to her breast. “I’ll take care of it, dear. Hurry, run, before you miss the bus.”

Emily considered begging her to take her, but the harried expression on her mother’s face made her change her mind. And Emily’s spirit sank into a pit of quicksand. Ugh. Her first day at school, and she had to ride the dreaded yellow monster.

Bolting out of the house and down the street, she grimaced when six kids piled onto the bus. By the time she reached the monstrosity, the driver had already shut the door. Great start to the new school year and a new school.

She banged on the door, and the driver opened it. When she ran up the steps, he gave her a sour look like he’d been sucking on sour pickles all morning.

“Need to get here earlier next time,” he grumbled. He wore a several-day growth of black stubble, and his rumpled clothes looked like he had slept in them for weeks. Where had the school dredged him up? A prison work-release program?

“All right, sorry,” she said cheerfully. Treat people with kindness; the best way to change a person’s sour mood. Sometimes, it worked.

He grunted and gave her a sinister look, his black bushy brows furrowing, his colorless eyes narrowed.

Okay, sometimes, it didn’t work.

Because it was the last stop on the bus route, two kids filled every seat already, except for three near the back. Boys sat in these, one to a seat, with their legs stretched full length across the cracked and sagging vinyl, just daring her to sit on their claimed territory.

The bus lurched forward. Her heart quickened, and she grabbed a seatback to keep from falling.

She considered each of the three boys who glowered at her, challenging her. Which one would she take on this morning? She hated to break her New Year’s resolution again, though since January she already broke it at least seventy times. She really planned on limiting the use of her abilities. But then again, something always seemed to happen, making her feel totally justified. Like now.

She turned her attention to the first of the boys as the bus bumped down the road. His hair shone just as red as hers; not washed down with blonde or darkened with brown, but pure, unadulterated red. Surely, he would have sympathy for another redhead. Not.

Next, she considered the short kid with bleached blonde, spiked hair adding an inch to his height. Why did boys with stunted growth feel the need to bully?

The last guy’s black hair curled behind his ears, and his eyes looked like two pieces of coal. She swore a tinge of red glowed in them.

She glanced at the redhead again. Since he sat closer, he would do. “Could I sit here, please?”

Having to deal with kids like him at her old school, she knew politeness wouldn’t move him. But, she had to at least make the attempt.

“Sit somewhere else.” His olive-colored eyes spearing her, he curled his lip with the words, emphasizing the need to show who was boss.

All right. She tried to be nice.

She shoved his feet from the seat and sat down next to him. His eyes heated. They couldn’t have been any narrower without being shut. His freckles expanded into a rush of angry red skin. Knowing full well his revenge would follow, she tensed and readied herself.

His hand flew to her shoulder, but before he could shove her from the seat, her gaze bored into his. Immediately, he retracted his hand as if he’d been scalded by steam rising from the spout of a teakettle. Served him right.

The blond-haired bully behind him hit his shoulder. “What’s up? Got a new girlfriend?”

“Shut up, Daniel,” he growled.

“You bangin’ her, Red?” the raven-haired boy taunted.

“Shove it, Rocky.”

Emily’s stomach unclenched. Her breathing normalized, but she knew the war had only just begun.

Thirty minutes later, the bus screeched to a halt in front of the pale peach, brick high school surrounded by southern pines. Emily had envisioned Florida would be filled with palm trees, orange groves, and white sand beaches, but pine trees?

The pine aroma wafted in the hot breeze, making her homesick for Oregon. Even the whooshing sound the wind made when it stirred the branches reminded her of home. But the heat and humidity clung to her skin, a constant reminder that she was far from Oregon.

When they got off the bus, Red and his buddies stuck near her. Their shared looks of hostility and the way they crowded her warned her they’d continue to be trouble. She didn’t need to read his mind to know Red fully intended to get back at her.

Yet, something caught her attention, something from a distance that her brain didn’t have time to assimilate, but even so, poltergeist flashed across her subconscious. In the same instant, Red punched his balled fist into her shoulder, his school ring adding to the impact. A sharp pain shot through her arm.

Wrinkling her forehead in concentration, she quirked a brow and took control of his mind.

Red twirled like a ballerina in place, slowly at first, then picking up his speed despite the clunky sneakers he wore.

Students stopped to watch and muffled laughter filled the hall.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Daniel asked, but when Red continued to make a fool of himself, his friends backed away and shook their heads.

Emily turned off her charm and headed down one of the long corridors. She hated to begin school like this. If only she could have made friends easily this time.

Emily found her classroom and took a seat in the back. Whiteboards, desks, the smell of paper and cleaner…same as her old school. But the faces were different. No one said a word to her. When the teacher walked into class, he stroked a Donald Duck tie, then leaned his backside against his desk. “I’m Mr. Smith. You’ll find your names on the desks already, if you’ll go ahead and find your seat.”

Anyone who wears cartoon ties can’t be all bad. She took her seat next to an empty chair. On the other side sat…Red. How did she ever get so lucky? He eyed her with contempt. She ignored him and faced the front.

Mr. Smith ran his finger down the seating chart. “Mr. Michael Shipley isn’t here?”

She assumed he meant the kid whose vacant seat was located next to hers.

The teacher combed his fingers through sandy-colored hair. His face was bronzed from the sun, and she wondered if he served as a lifeguard over summer vacation. She definitely wouldn’t have minded if he’d rescued her.

“We’ll start by going around the room, giving your names and where you’re from originally,” Mr. Smith said.

When introductions made it halfway around the room, a six-foot tall dream of a guy walked in. His sable hair and eyes reminded Emily of semi-sweet, dark chocolate, and his skin was as golden as the teacher’s. When she caught his eye, she smiled. He quickly mirrored her expression and sat in the vacant seat beside her.

Things were definitely looking up.

“Mr. Michael Shipley, I presume,” the teacher said.

“Yes, sir. Sorry I’m late. I had to take my grandmother to the hospital.”

Hospital?

Since Emily had just lost her grandmother—the only grandparent she’d had left—she hoped for Michael’s sake his own wasn’t experiencing anything life threatening.

“Nothing serious, I hope,” Mr. Smith said, with genuine compassion.

Emily’s thoughts shifted to her own grandmother, dying in the hospital, her eyes gray, her skin sallow, her skin stretched across bones. For two months, the lung cancer had invaded her organs, her tissues, her cells, and she’d wasted away until she died. Emily couldn’t shake loose of the image until Michael spoke again.

“She fell off a boat.”

Emily closed her gaping mouth. She tried to read his mind while the teacher resumed introductions, but she couldn’t scan Michael’s thoughts. Her stomach churned, and she felt as though she was suddenly brain impaired.

“Miss Emily Rundle?”

She turned her head in the teacher’s direction, startled when she realized she’d been studying Michael all this time, totally oblivious to anyone else in the room. “Emily Rundle from Beaverton, Oregon.”

“Yankee,” Red sneered.

Michael offered her another smile. “Michael Shipley from Sacramento, California.”

He was a West Coaster, too. And good looking. She was dying to know what happened to his grandmother, though. Totally frustrated she couldn’t see his thoughts, her brows drew together.

Another girl gave her name, and Emily willed the teacher to question Michael about his grandmother.

Mr. Smith obliged. “About your grandmother, Michael, what happened exactly?”

Michael’s tanned face turned as white as the sandy beaches in Panama City, Florida. “Maybe I could tell you after class, sir.”

Then he glanced at Emily, and she felt like he knew what she had done. Her heart took a dive, and she quickly looked away. No one knew what she was capable of unless she told someone.

Was this the danger the ghost warned her of?

Ebook:

Ghostly Liaisons

Terry Spear

Ghostly Liaisons

Copyright © 2010 by Terry Spear

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

Discover more about Terry Spear at:

http://www.terryspear.com/

DEDICATION

 

To ghost lovers everywhere. May you only encounter the kindly ones!

Chapter 1

Emily Rundle stared at herself in the mirror, but she didn’t look like herself, not with the brunette coloring she’d used. Glad she tested out a temporary hair color, she washed it all out of her hair with peach shampoo, blew it dry, and sighed. Didn’t matter that she was always teased about her red hair. She wanted to at least feel normal when she looked in the mirror at herself, since nothing else about her was–normal.

She walked into her bedroom and considered the bed, wondering if tonight, she’d finally be able to sleep the whole night through.

She was sure she wouldn’t have long to wait before she knew the answer to her question.

***

“Beware the danger,” a feminine voice whispered close to Emily’s ear, the sweet fragrance of tea-scented roses wafting in the air.

Emily stirred in bed, her mind half awake. It was only a dream, she told herself. Or a very real nightmare.

When a hand touched her throat, leaving an icy imprint of frostbite burning the skin, Emily’s eyes popped open, her heart pumping hard.

Not again. A new home, a new beginning. Why couldn’t they leave her alone?

She lay very still, barely breathing, waiting for the unseen entity to appear, to speak again. The room was cold, but she had assumed it was because her hot-natured dad had turned the air conditioner on high again on the sweltering, August night. Her whole body chilled and she buried herself deeper under her pink satin comforter.

The skin on her throat still burned from the freezing fingers that had touched her, the first time the thing had been so bold. But it didn’t seem to want to harm her.

“Hello?” Emily whispered. “What…what do you want?”

She flipped on her lamp switch. Nothing. Then the linen curtains hanging closed rippled as if the muggy Florida breeze was blowing in from the north through an open window. The way her skin crawled with chill bumps and her breath came out in frosty puffs, Emily knew it was still in the room with her.

“I can help you.” At least she hoped she could. Her dealings with ghosts didn’t always work out the way she planned. “What do you want?”

Emily’s closet door creaked open, the hair on her arms stood on end, and she shifted her attention to the walk-in closet.

“I’ve helped…uhm, people like you before,” Emily said. She ran her fingers through her tangled hair, wishing the restless spirit would leave her in peace so she could sleep just one night.

Fine. Have it your way.

Terry Spear

“Giving new meaning to the term alpha male where fantasy is reality.”

Connect with Terry Spear:

Website: http://www.terryspear.com

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/421434.Terry_Spear

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TerrySpearParanormalRomantics

Twitter: https://twitter.com/TerrySpear

Female Bluebird, Red Dragonfly, Neighbor on Roof

female-bluebird-700I’ve seen several bluebirds recently. She was sitting on the tree branch, then on my fence. They don’t eat from my feeders, just eat the bugs flying around.

It’s going to be 94 today, ugh, but the temperatures are dropping to the 80’s after the next couple of days, and 50’s to 60’s in the mornings. Yay! It just seems WRONG to be 94 in the middle of October! And no rain in sight. *sigh*red-dragonfly-yellow-sunflower-900-134

So I was working on getting the picture of the red dragonfly a couple of weeks ago, and just came across the photos. Here, my neighbor shouted from his rooftop to say hi.

eugene-900🙂

I’m trying not to disturb the red dragonfly since I’d NEVER seen one before in real life, so I finally had to take a picture of my neighbor cleaning off his roof, so I could get back to photographing the red dragonfly. He’s so funny, and they’re just the best neighbors anybody could ask for.

I finished White Wolf Christmas and sent it to another beta reader for final reading and then I’ll have to make the final changes and turn it in. But I’m also having fun reading posts on photography, what to do and what not to do. Did you know that it’s better not to cut off people at the joints? Wrists, knees, elbows? Who would have ever thought?

So I was reading up on cropping, but it all comes down to the artistic eye. What someone might think is the coolest shot, someone else might think it needs to be cropped in a different way completely. It’s a good idea to keep your original photo and then if you decide later you think the photo should be cropped a different way, you can.  In the photo of the bluebird, I wanted to capture a little of the green trees. But rule of thirds say to keep the image you want to focus not in the center. Her head is actually is not in the center. In portrait photography, one photographer says to keep the eyes above center if you come in for a close shot.

Now, in cropping, all this is just art, truly. So like I said, what someone might like, someone else might like a different view.

In one photo they showed, they had a cafe table and stairs going into a building, but what fascinated me more was the continuation of the alley, the people in the distance. So for me, it was the whole scene, not the table. I was mainly focused on the people. Crop that out, and the table wasn’t half as interesting. But was just me. Sometimes I will crop a picture in a bunch of different ways, just to see which is more appealing. Usually if it’s something small, I like to crop it closer to show off the details of the object. If you can get in closer when you take the original shot, all the better. But sometimes birds or bees or butterflies or dragonflies don’t like you sneaking up close to them.

In the red dragonfly photo, I wanted to center on the dragonfly and the wrought iron he’s balancing on.  On the right side, there’s not much but the fence in the picture. On the left side, the sunflower. So I thought it was cooler with cropping a bit of the sunflower in, but still crop closer so that the dragonfly is more visible, which meant cropping closer to the dragonfly. I think it makes for a more interesting picture.

With my neighbor, I could have cropped it closer to see him, but I liked showing the scale of him standing on the roof, and his crepe myrtle stretching to the sky.

If you think about it, writing is much like photography. You want to keep the good parts, the focal point, and crop out all the unnecessary stuff, the noise, the distractions.

Speaking of writing, it’s back to Double Cougar Trouble for me! 🙂

Hope your week is going well!

Terry Spear

“Giving new meaning to the term alpha male where fantasy is reality.”

Connect with Terry Spear:

Website: http://www.terryspear.com

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/421434.Terry_Spear

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TerrySpearParanormalRomantics

Twitter: https://twitter.com/TerrySpear

Heart of the Wolf–In the Beginning…

skipper-brown-butterfly-purple-days-purple-wolf-fall-in-love-024I was writing everything from fantasy and historical to romantic suspense and finally the paranormal, adult romance to children’s stories and young adult at a time when Indie publishing didn’t exist, and ebooks didn’t exist (am I dating myself or what?) Heck, personal computers didn’t exist! The Internet didn’t exist!!!! That meant typing my stories initially. Do you know how hard it is to type stories on a typewriter and cut and paste scenes?  I cut out scenes and taped them together to make the changes, then retyped them.  And you can’t make any mistakes.

Then there’s a problem with submission. Back then, you could submit without an agent, BUT, you had to learn who the new agents were by name, what they were interested in, no such thing as looking them up on the Internet! Books published listing agents were outdated by a year by the time they hit the stands!

When it came time to write my first adult novel, we had personal computers, yay! And the Internet had finally come to my small town in Oklahoma. And that was really the birth of writing for me.

But no Indie publishing for years, and ebooks, when they came into being–didn’t help much because very few readers had ereaders. Small publishers popped up all over the place to publish ebooks only, but until readers had devices to read on, they didn’t sell well. It’s like having a phone before anyone else does. No one to call, right?

So I finally landed some contracts with a couple of bigger publishers, which meant getting advances. With the little ones, no advances. Hope your books stick and sell. But one of the publishers dumped the young adult line a month before my first release came out. And then I sold Heart of the Wolf. It was my big break.

Fifteen years of writing.

Werewolves rule.

Heart of the Wolf
Heart of the Wolf: To win her, he must fight to the death…

Book 1

Publishers Weekly’s *Best Books of the Year* (Mass Market)

B&N

Heart

of the Wolf

Terry Spear

 

Copyright © 2008 by Terry Spear

Cover and internal design © 2008 by Sourcebooks, Inc.

Cover photo © Corbis

Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.

P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

(630) 961-3900 Fax: (630) 961-2168 http://www.sourcebooks.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Spear, Terry.

Heart of the wolf / Terry Spear.

  1. cm.

ISBN-13: 978-1-4022-1157-7

ISBN-10: 1-4022-1157-0

  1. Title.

PS3619.P373H43 2008

813′.6–dc22

2007048865

Printed and bound in the United States of America OPM   10   9   8   7   6   5   4   3   2   1

To my mother, daughter, and son with all my love for their support in my writing endeavors

 

Excerpt from Heart of the Wolf:

Another crack.  Another stab of pain.  This time her right flank.  She stumbled when her back legs gave out.  What had they shot her with?  She panted, her heart racing as she tried to keep her wits.

The men crashed through the brush toward her.  The boots impacting with the earth radiated outward and the tremor centered in her pads.  She struggled to run.  Her heart rate slowed.

“Man, oh, man, I told you, didn’t I, Thompson?  He’s beautiful,” a tall man said, wearing camouflaged gear, his dark hair chopped short, the bill of a camouflaged baseball cap shading his eyes.  He approached her using caution.

She gave him a feral look that meant danger and dragged her back legs.  Work, damn you!  Work!  But no matter how much she willed her legs to push her forward, she couldn’t manage.  She sat, panic driving her to run, but unable to oblige as a strange numbness slipped through her body.  No longer able to sit up, she rolled over onto her side.  And watched the hunters approach with murder in her eyes.

“Damn!  He’s the biggest red wolf I’ve ever seen, Joe,” Thompson said as both drew closer, cautiously, the smell of fear cloaking them.  He was dressed like the other, only she could see his blue eyes wide with excitement.

She lifted her head, snarled, and snapped her teeth, but the futile effort cost her precious energy.  Exhausted, she dropped her head back to the forest floor, the bed of pine needles tickling her nose.

Joe crouched at her back, then pulled something from her hip.  A dart, not bullets.  Damn.  Her heart beat so slowly she thought she’d die.

“You sure as hell were right that a red wolf prowled these parts.  But they’ve been extinct for years.  How in the hell did he get here?  I mean, he couldn’t have traveled all the way from the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.”  Joe smelled of sweat and sex and a musky deodorant that wasn’t holding up under the pressure, nor was his flowery cologne hiding the body odor.

Thompson, a blond-haired, bearded man smelled just as sweaty and virile, but he wore no artificial sweeteners to attract the female variety.  She could hear his heart hammering against his ribs when he raised her back leg.

Unable to lift her head, she snarled, but the sound, muffled in sleep, didn’t have the threat she intended.

“He’s a she.  Damn.  How’d a female ever get this big?”

She growled, priding herself in being a red wolf, and small.  Sure for a real wolf she appeared big, but as a lupus garou

He ran his hand over her hind leg.  If she hadn’t seen him do it, she’d never have realized it, as numb as her leg was.  “Long legs, best looking red pelt I’ve ever seen on a feral wolf.”  He looked over at the dark-haired man.  “She’s in heat, Joe.  We’ll have to have her mated.”

Mate?  Great.  If they locked her in a room with a real red wolf…ohmigod, they couldn’t be planning on taking her to a zoo.

“That’d be the ticket.”  Joe lifted a cell phone to his ear.  “Hey, we got her!  Yeah, the wolf’s a she, not a he as I’d assumed.  No shit!  I told you I’d seen her running through here last weekend.”

Why hadn’t she seen these men?  Smelled their pungent odors?  Heard them?

She had let down her guard, and now she would pay.

“Yeah, she’s a big one.”  Joe nodded.  “Figured we’d get her with one dart…took two.”  He ran his hand over her side.  She attempted her most terrifying growl, but it sounded more like a sickly, low moan.  “Maybe 110 pounds, more the size of a gray.”  He chuckled.  “I know, I know, I told you she’s big.  No, not fat.  Lean as they come, just longer legged and longer bodied, and she has the prettiest red pelt you ever did see.”

He ran his hand over her back.  “Okay, we’ll pack her out of here.  Be there in about three hours.  Longer if she comes to.  The tranquilizers each were set for a 40-pound wolf, not one as big as she is.  But we didn’t want to overdo it.  And let ‘em know Big Red can have a mate now.  No need to get a loaner from the Melbourne, Florida zoo.  Unless she’s been mating with coyotes, she’s about due for a hunk of a red wolf.”

He laughed, undoubtedly amused at the response to his comment on the other end of the line.

She groaned inwardly.

“All right, out here.”  He turned to the blond.  “Seems a shame if she’s doing so well in these woods that we have to put her into captivity, Thompson.”

“Hey, like you said, she won’t find any of her kind around here.  We’re doing her a favor.”

Inwardly, she fumed, and if she hadn’t been so doped up, she’d have bitten both of them.

***

And that’s my story and I’m sticking to it!

Have a wonderfully, fun day!

Back to proofing White Wolf Christmas. Five more chapters to go!

Terry Spear

“Giving new meaning to the term alpha male where fantasy is reality.”

Connect with Terry Spear:

Website: http://www.terryspear.com

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/421434.Terry_Spear

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TerrySpearParanormalRomantics

Twitter: https://twitter.com/TerrySpear

I Want It Right Now!

mum-orange-and-yellow-and-purple-flowers-900Mums that struggled to make it during the spring and summer and now in fall, they’re huge!

california-buckeye-brown-butterfly-026California Buckeye butterfly in Texas on kaleidoscope butterfly bush. I love those bushes. They have performed so well all year, and even the dead flowers provide interest.

Okay, so during the spring and summer, my mums were struggling to survive. Same with the purple salvia in the picture. I was about to give up on all of them. Just pull them out and start over. But now that it’s fall, they’re HUGE and full of color.

With the butterfly, I took pictures both in automatic, which turned out beautifully, and manually, setting it to the settings that butterfly experts said to set them on.  And most were awful. A couple of them turned out. Sooooo, I’m still going to try the different settings, but I do auto also so I make sure I have some shots that turn out. The one above was on auto. The one below on manual.

california-buckeye-brown-butterfly-and-bunny-feeder-900-070I’m off to work on White Wolf Christmas. Trying to avoid distractions and read it through one more time. I was on ch 8 this morning, but the puppies have to have their routine. And me staying in bed after I let them outside and then let them back inside so I can read on my laptop is NOT part of THEIR routine. So I’m going to try and sit on the recliner, stay away from the windows and butterflies and dragonflies and birds….and concentrate on getting this done.

Do you ever find you are impatient with things not happening fast enough?

Hope you are having a fun day!!!

Terry Spear

“Giving new meaning to the term alpha male where fantasy is reality.”

Connect with Terry Spear:

Website: http://www.terryspear.com

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/421434.Terry_Spear

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TerrySpearParanormalRomantics

Twitter: https://twitter.com/TerrySpear

Having Fun with Changing a Setting!

jenn-15-with-new-background-900I couldn’t quickly find the same picture, but here’s what her yard really looks like. 🙂 I wish I could help her make it look like the above. 🙂 <3

jennifer-week-no-changes-15-900-037

Working on White Wolf Christmas and got the request for the long synopsis, etc, so they can make the cover. That’s always fun for me. NOT writing the synopsis, but them making the cover. 🙂

It’s cool this morning, still too dark to walk. But I’ve got so much to work on and the deadline for this book is looming, sooooo…

See how easy it is to make excuses?

Have a wonderful day!!

Terry Spear

“Giving new meaning to the term alpha male where fantasy is reality.”

Connect with Terry Spear:

Website: http://www.terryspear.com

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/421434.Terry_Spear

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TerrySpearParanormalRomantics

Twitter: https://twitter.com/TerrySpear

Excerpt from Killing the Bloodlust–Vampire Novel

Trees at a foggy scenery

Trees at a foggy scenery

KILLING THE BLOODLUST

Heart of the Huntress Series, Book 1

TERRY SPEAR

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

 

Discover more about Terry Spear at:

http://www.terryspear.com

Copyright © 2012 Terry Spear

All rights reserved.

 

 

About: Killing the Bloodlust

 

Crystal Anderson is unique, a huntress who is unable to kill vampires without getting emotionally involved. So when a vampire targets her to be his mate–she’s got to change her tune, or become the creature she’s supposed to kill. Hunter Robert Parker is in Texas to take down the vampire that murdered his sister. When he runs into Crystal, his priorities become something much graver.

 

Army officer Crystal Anderson can’t help the draw she has to vampires, although she’s supposed to be drawn to them to kill those who are renegades since she’s a born huntress. But something about her is different. Ostracized from her family, she lives precariously on her own. That is until a local vampire targets her. Then she meets a fellow Army officer Robert Parker–who she believes is one of them–a vampire or blood host, or something. Suddenly, nothing is the same. Army officer Robert Parker is on assignment at Fort Hood, Texas, trying to track down the vampire who murdered his sister after hours. When he spies Crystal coming out of a vampire house, he assumes she’s a human host, and that she can lead him to his murderer. Except he’s drawn to her like a hunter would be to a huntress, until he learns she’s not quite right. She’s fighting alone without a family of hunters’ support, and he’s bound to do something about it before she gets herself killed…or worse.

 

 

 

 

DEDICATION

 

 

To my Rebel Romance Writer critique partners who loved my vampires, even if they were the bad guys in this book and encouraged me to continue writing them. This was the beginning of my huntress/vampire world, which is a little different from the world I now create for vampires…hope vampire lovers all over the world enjoy.

“A must read for lovers of vampire lore.”—Joletta, Fallen Angel Reviews

“Interesting story with a fast-paced plot”—Tara Black, The Romance Studio

 

 

Chapter 1

 

Vengeance be mine, Robert Parker thought as he headed for the house where the vampire was supposed to be residing who had killed his sister.

Robert was a hunter, a warrior, like others of his kind, whose DNA had been altered during the Black Death. Some, like him, had become hunters of vampires, while others, the blood suckers. It was in their genes—those who had lived through the deadly plague—whether they needed blood, or could recognize the vampires for what they were.

Both of their kinds were stronger, able to fight one another on more equal ground, the only way to protect the humans from extermination. But he was destined to eliminate those who had targeted hunters and humans alike, his whole world having been turned upside down when the vampire rogue, Yorovitch, had murdered his sister.

Now, he eyed the two-story house, the first clue that he’d dug up that revealed Yorovitch had frequented the place. Any who hid or protected the bastard would face the same end.

He sharpened his sword, the ancient weapon having been used to bring down vampires for centuries and would no doubt continue long after he was dead.

Only Robert Parker didn’t plan to die today.

***

As a born huntress, who should be paying the bills by eliminating rogue vampires, Crystal Anderson wasn’t the same as her kind. She was an oddity, a mutation, something that wasn’t quite right. Which was the reason she served in the U.S. Army and avoided hunting vampires as much as she was able. But one vampire—Nicolai—head of a local vampire family in Killeen, Texas, was quickly changing her rules.

Crystal opened the door to her dark apartment after a long day at the office as a 1st Cavalry Division Safety Officer at Fort Hood, her most gruesome duty—briefing the commanding general on the deaths of three male soldiers. Except they hadn’t been in Texas but Mexico when they had died. International incident? Three soldiers, three soiled doves, all asphyxiated because of a faulty heater in a sleazy motel. She sighed, hating to have to brief the general on any kind of fatality. But especially this one.

Before she shut the door to her apartment with thoughts of kicking off her combat boots and watching something light and fluffy on TV, a whiff of spicy male scent drifted to her. A sense of foreboding instantly filled her. Her stomach clenched. Where had she smelled that scent before? And why was it in her apartment?

With trepidation, she groped for the light switch, then flipped it on. Just as she’d feared, the place remained as black as an underground cave. Heartbeat quickening, she slipped her hand into her black leather purse, pulled out a retractable knife, and dropped the bag on the living room carpet.

Snapping the knife open—a blade forged in Medieval fires, blessed with strange incantations, passed down from generation to generation, and one of the best weapons for eliminating a vampire—she stepped forward, leaving the front door ajar in case she needed to make a hasty retreat. Her knee came in contact with the sofa. Using her hand to feel her way around, she bypassed the loveseat. Not one to give in to flights of fancy, she skirted the coffee table, then headed for her portable phone.

After grabbing the phone, she turned it on, and raised it to her ear. No dial tone. Either her bedroom phone was off the hook or the line had been cut. The electricity being off wasn’t a coincidence.

Time to depart and regroup. She dropped the phone and hurried for the door. And stopped abruptly.

The door was closed tight. She’d never even heard it click shut. Contemplating her next move, she felt her stomach muscles tighten. How could she get caught without a backup plan?

Her phone suddenly rang, jarring her already raw nerves. A shiver slithered down her spine. She whipped around to face the phone. Whoever had turned off the electricity was in the house. And he’d managed to hang up both her phones, and then dial her number.

Taking a deep breath, she attempted to control the panic rising in her blood. The tantalizing spicy scent drifted to her again. Then she recognized it. Nicolai’s scent. The devil himself and her main target if she could get him in her sights. How did he get in without an invitation? Maybe he’d used vampiric mind control to convince her apartment manager to let him in. Damn. She should have bought a place of her own, though on her Army salary, she really couldn’t afford one right now. Nor had she wanted the fuss of yard work or the myriad of troubles associated with home ownership.

The phone ceased to ring, and her voice message spoke over the answering machine.

Games. He loved playing with her to show how clever he was, and how powerless she could be. She took another deep breath. Nicolai stood close, but where? Her eyes couldn’t adjust to the dark, but she knew the position of every piece of furniture. She wasn’t totally disadvantaged, unless he had moved things. Then again, his night vision vastly surpassed hers. Most likely he watched every move she made. More gooseflesh erupted.

What was he waiting for? He wanted to prolong her fear…taste it. But she was determined not to show how rattled she was.

She crossed the carpeted floor to the kitchen. Her combat boots smacked the tile in her haste while the legs of her camouflaged green fatigues rubbed against each other with a swishing sound, the only noise in the deathly quiet. Easing a drawer open, she attempted to locate her flashlight. Her trembling fingers touched cold metal wrenches and screwdrivers, but no rubber handled flashlight. Had he moved it? Or had she misplaced it again?

Once more, she drew in his spicy scent. The hair stood on her arms, causing her skin to prickle. She headed for the breaker box in her bedroom closet.

Inside the closet, she pulled the metal breaker door open with a squeak, shattering the silence. She flipped the switches one by one with a click. Her living room lamp came on. Just as quickly, the bulb broke with a crash.

iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/killing-the-bloodlust/id1098070448?mt=11

***

So I’ve been working on edits on White Wolf Christmas, but I also had to update Kissing the Highlander Anthology so we could put it up for 99 cent sale, and it will be coming out on BookBub ad Oct 30 for that price.

We will be discontinuing the Kissing the Highlander and Enchanting the Highlander anthologies on November 30, 2016.  Enchanting the Highlander is brand new and comes out November 1.

Individual novellas will be offered after that.

But for now, you can still get the whole anthology, each one at 99 cents!

https://i0.wp.com/terryspearbooks.blog/wp-content/uploads/2015/01/kissing-the-highlander-final-438x6401.jpg?resize=219%2C320&ssl=1

Five new Highland novellas by Bestselling Authors of Highland romances that will delight with mystery, intrigue, romance, drama and much more! From the authors who have provided countless hours of reading pleasure so that fans can slip away to the past and live among all those hot Highlanders.

BUY LINKS:

Barnes and Noble

Amazon

ARe Books (All Romance ebooks)

Kobo

Smashwords

Apple/Itunes/Ibooks

ENCHANTING THE HIGHLANDER is up for pre-order!!!

Enchanting the Highlander

5 new Scottish romance novellas by 5 bestselling authors!  BRAND NEW stories!

PROTECTED BY THE LAIRD by Eliza Knight — When she needed a champion, he raised his sword…

VEXING THE HIGHLANDER by Terry Spear — Saving the king’s life has unforeseen consequences for one Highlander and a lady, the king’s ward…

DEFENDED BY A HIGHLAND RENEGADE by Vonda Sinclair — A bride on the run doesn’t expect a kilted outlaw to come to her rescue…

TARTANS AND TRYSTS by Victoria Roberts — This Highland warrior is about to lose the battle to a lass who’s already won his heart…

HIS HIGHLAND ROSE by Willa Blair — He is the one man who can see her soul and show her who she truly is—his only love…

Order now! Available November 1!
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Enchanting-Highlander-Eliza-Knight-ebook/dp/B01JNYO2AM
ITunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id1136905927
B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1124144233
Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/…/ebo…/enchanting-the-highlander

Yellow butterflies for fall. The first is a yellow swallowtail and he matched with the yellow leaves. The second is a highly scaredy cat butterfly that normally would NEVER land. So I was only able to get one blurry photo before he took off.

yellow-leaves-and-yellow-butterfly-tiger-swallowtail-2-vibrant-640x470 yellow-butterfly-001

I’ve tried to capture a good shot of a yellow butterfly before, but they were just as bad. 🙂

I missed getting my word count on Double Cougar Trouble yesterday. 🙁 And this morning, I’ve been back at updating Kissing, soooooo….them’s the breaks!

It’s been hot and muggy here in the mornings, so no time to walk. But next week, it’s going to be 55 in the morning around Thursday! Then it will be too cold to walk. lol

Does that mean I’m a fair-weather walker???

Have a fun day!

Terry Spear

“Giving new meaning to the term alpha male where fantasy is reality.”

Connect with Terry Spear:

Website: http://www.terryspear.com

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/421434.Terry_Spear

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TerrySpearParanormalRomantics

Twitter: https://twitter.com/TerrySpear

 

Giraffe at Legoland

giraffe-legoland-and-giraffes-added-900This is a work in progress. I realized too late I forgot to share an excerpt yesterday. I’ll do so tomorrow. I took this picture at Legoland in Chicago.

Had a million requests for stuff yesterday from everyone and finished some of them, but have a ton more I need to do, anything from signing a contract for another three books, discovering my insurance company has been charging me for the house I sold in March, and now, even after I told them it was sold and take it off, twice!, I have to prove when I sold it. The paperwork is SOMEWHERE. I spent until midnight last night looking for it. Found all the contract stuff, but not the actual title showing the sale was complete. Have no idea where I “filed” it. That was in part due to having just moved here, was still unpacking boxes, and trying to figure out where to put all this paperwork coming in for everything. But at least I cleaned out stuff I didn’t need and put it out for the trash this morning. Always have to look at the bright side. 🙂

And I have to go back into Kissing the Highlander, add links, and do a bunch of stuff with it, pronto.

And I had a request for promo that I had done, but apparently it went missing, so had to resend. But with everything else going on, I was glad I had that covered.

And White Wolf Christmas is due November 1st, so wrapping up edits, trying to keep up with wordcount on Double Cougar Trouble.

So last night I had pizza at my daughter’s house and we watched baby photographing videos. My daughter told me she’d sleep while I did them. lol She probably will.

Okay off to work on something! Have a great one!

Terry Spear

“Giving new meaning to the term alpha male where fantasy is reality.”

Connect with Terry Spear:

Website: http://www.terryspear.com

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/421434.Terry_Spear

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TerrySpearParanormalRomantics

Twitter: https://twitter.com/TerrySpear

Playing Around with Photoshop–Otters, Sunken Boats, You Name It!

otter-standing-up-looking-at-me-sunken-boat-9003-otters-water-fountains-900-043I added the sunken boat for interest. This was the most curious otter of the three. And here all three are. 🙂

I was going to walk, but it started raining, then the warranty guy came over for the annual check, and then it was way too hot and muggy. We had a chance of more rain, but nothing happened. It was only 81 out, but 99% humidity and that made it feel so much hotter.

marbelized-wolf-purpleI hope, if you picked up A Very Jaguar Christmas, you loved it! 🙂

dead-pine-tree-001Woohoo, they’re going to take down my dead pine tree! It could have cost me around $1,000, but I’m so thrilled they’re coming to take it down for free. That’s the housing development. I had told them right away that I thought the tree was dying when I moved in. Thankfully. It’s been green up until a couple of days ago. But initially, every time it poured rain, sap poured out of the tree. Then it began losing bark. A few days ago, tons of bark was scattered all over the lawn. And then a couple of days after that, I looked up, and all the pine needles were dead. It’s sad. It’s part of an old forest, but probably with all the construction around it, the roots were killed back. I have five others, but they all seem to be fine. Anyway, I’m thrilled they’re going to take it down before it comes down in a storm. It’s about 100 feet tall.

Off to write.

Have a wonderful day!

Terry Spear

“Giving new meaning to the term alpha male where fantasy is reality.”

Connect with Terry Spear:

Website: http://www.terryspear.com

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/421434.Terry_Spear

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TerrySpearParanormalRomantics

Twitter: https://twitter.com/TerrySpear